


Aaaannnnnnnd...Action!

by Croik



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crueltide, M/M, Resident Evil 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik
Summary: After being captured by the Bakers, Clancy catches the particular interest of their son, Lucas.  Canon-divergence taking place during the DLC.





	Aaaannnnnnnd...Action!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red_Terra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Terra/gifts).



When Clancy awoke, he was back in the bed, and he could still taste roaches in his throat. It took a few minutes and a lot of gagging before he could properly breathe.

Even when he had the majority of his composure back, he felt close to shriveling up. The room that served as his prison had been bizarre enough with sickly daylight creeping through the boarded windows; in full night it was downright grotesque, all manner of shifting, unidentifiable shadows scraping the walls. The smell of mold and rot was worse than ever, and when he stayed put for too long, he could have sworn he felt a centipede crawling through his sinuses.

"Fuck," Clancy whispered, just to keep his imagination out of the silence. When he tried to lower his hands and push himself up, he realized at last that his ligatures had been altered: rather than being bolted to the tray table, he'd been handcuffed to the headboard, wrists and elbows sore from lying crookedly while he was unconscious. He yanked and twisted, but freeing himself wasn't going to be nearly as simple as the wrist strap from earlier had been. "Fuck. I fucked up." He turned his eyes on the room again, searching the immediate area for anything he might have been able to reach, even with just his feet. "Now that she's on to me…."

The floorboards outside the room creaked. Clancy stopped moving to listen—someone was coming closer, and a moment later the doorknob turned, slowly. He knew at once that it wasn't the woman that had taken so much glee in torturing him the past however-many hours. _She_ would have thrown the door open with a slam in hopes of catching him in another attempt to escape, or else tricked him by entering with the casual intrusion of a nosy mother. Whoever was at the door was taking their time not to be heard.

The door swung carefully open, only wide enough for a figure to slip through. "Hello?" Clancy called, but hushed. If the stranger was choosing caution it was likely for good reason. "Who's there?"

" _Shh_." The stranger closed the door behind him with just as much delicacy. He moved close to the bed but even then was little more than a gangly shadow, and in the darkness it took Clancy a while to realize he was wearing a hood low over his face. "Don't want to wake the whole house, do ya?"

His voice had the strong Southern drawl the husband and wife each had, and as he climbed up onto the bed, Clancy began to panic. He fully expected a spew of maggots and leeches to rain down on him at any moment, and he kicked and struggled as best he could. But before he could draw a full breath to shout, the stranger sat himself down on his chest, smothering him. He sputtered and gasped as the bedsprings squealed.

"Cut that out, now," the stranger scolded, clamping a cold, greasy hand over Clancy's mouth. "Or you ain't getting what I brought ya."

He took something out of the pocket of his hoodie and raised it to his face. Clancy couldn't make it out, but he heard a tear of paper, and then something was shoved under his nose: chocolate. It was a goddamn candy bar, and even though he was still trapped, his stomach twisted furiously. How long had it been since he'd eaten real food? Hours, most definitely—maybe days? Even though he was wary of tricks, the smell already had his mouth watering.

"I'm gonna let go," said the man, flexing his fingers against Clancy's jaw. "And I'll let you have it. There's more where this came from if you don't turn into a dumbass and start shouting, hear me? You'd better not get us both fucked."

Clancy nodded as best he could, and then held still to show his obedience. There was a good chance what he was being offered was fly larvae wrapped in a Snicker's bar but it was worth the risk. As soon as his mouth was free, he opened it, and the chocolate was Heaven on his tongue. Even when he bit down, he didn't find bugs or blood or whatever else these psychotic hillbillies had to offer. It was just the most beautiful Payday he'd ever tasted, and he almost cried.

_They're not hillbillies,_ he remembered Andre saying, and as he ate he strained his memory for the show prep he wished he hadn't neglected. _They're the Bakers. Jack and Marguerite Baker._ The stranger moved further down his body, still sitting on him but not crowding so close as to keep him from breathing or swallowing. He was thin and body, angular features jutting out from under his hood, just barely visible in the dark. _And their kids, Lucas and Zoe._

Lucas pulled back the chocolate when there was still half of it left, and Clancy wanted to protest, but then he felt the neck of a plastic bottle press against his bottom lip. Luke-warm water splashed across his face and he hurried to seal his mouth over the opening so as to not miss any. It didn't taste entirely clean but it _was_ water, soothing his parched throat, giving him a much-needed sense of clarity. This was help. He could still get out.

"Thank you," Clancy croaked as the water was pulled back. "Thank you, thank fuck for you."

"Thank fuck for me," Lucas echoed, and he chuckled a little, which Clancy might have found eerie if not for the return of peanuts and chocolate. He was allowed to finish the entire bar, then the rest of the water.

"Get me out," said Clancy as soon as he was sure Lucas had no other food or water to offer. "Do you have a key to the cuffs? Where is—"

Lucas gave his cheek a dull slap to shut him up again. "Slow down there," he said. "You're never gonna make it outta here if you don't keep your head. Now's not the time, trust me—not with Ma still up and about."

"That's really your mom?" Clancy already knew that, of course, but the bitter twist in Lucas' tone brought the reality into painful focus. His mind burned with questions he had now idea how to even begin to ask.

"Ayup, that's her." Lucas leaned forward. He was still straddling Clancy, a position that had slipped to afterthought in the face of sustenance, but when he pressed his hands into the mattress Clancy was suddenly very aware of the uncomfortable and unnecessary proximity. "But we still got a little time before we have to worry about her. Name's Lucas. What's yours?"

"Clancy," he replied quickly. Something was off, but Lucas was still the closest he had to a lifeline in this godforsaken hellhole, and he didn't have much choice but to fling some trust his way. "Clancy Jarvis. I don't even know how long I've been here—what the hell is going on?"

Lucas gave a snort; his breath was foul against Clancy's face. "A whole world'a shit is what's going on here, friend. You've got no idea. What the hell's a city boy doing way out here anyway?"

"We were…." Clancy grumbled with frustration. "What does it even matter now? Can't you just—"

"Come on, man," Lucas insisted. "I'm risking my life here, too, you know. Least you can do is answer a simple God damn question."

He reached into his hoodie pocket again, and even though Clancy couldn't see what he pulled out, he sure as hell recognized the jingle of keys. "Let me out," Clancy said immediately. "If you have the keys—"

"Questions first," replied Lucas.

"Fuck! _Please_ , this isn't a game—"

" _Of course_ it is," Lucas snapped, for a moment his face and voice going hard. Then he laughed, thin and unhinged, and Clancy couldn't help but cower. "Of course it is," Lucas repeated, but teasingly. "It's all one big fucking joke. So answer the question: what were you doing out here?"

_He's not here to help me,_ Clancy finally realized, the chocolate heavy in his stomach. _This is just another way to torture me, like his mom was doing_. He felt a ridiculous pang of betrayal at the thought. Still, the soft clink of the keys was at least the best chance he'd had so far. He licked his lips. "We wanted to shoot an episode of our show," he said. " _Sewer Gators_. We film spooky, abandoned houses and put it on the internet."

"A vlog or something?" Lucas hummed thoughtfully. "Well, what do you know. I always thought I had a face for show business." He laughed some more, and Clancy winced again at his breath. Then at last he leaned back, still chuckling as he climbed off the bed.

"Wait," Clancy called after him. "Wait, what about—"

Lucas tossed the keys onto his chest. "Good luck with them," he said as he headed for the door. "I'm gonna go get ready for my close up."

He left, but rather than using the same caution he had when entering, he slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the picture frames. There was no way that Marguerite wouldn't have heard it and Clancy's heart began to pound. "Fuck," he whispered as he squirmed, trying to reach the keys. He dug his heels into the mattress and lifted his hips, letting gravity draw them down his chest to his mouth. "Fuck fuck _fuck_!" he wheezed around the metal as he shoved himself up against the headboard. He could hear footsteps on the stairs. It took a lot of twisting and wrist-bruising for him to get the keys between his fingers, and then to work them into the lock. Marguerite was swearing in the hall.

The cuff popped open. Clancy didn't even bother with the other wrist; as soon as he was able to pull free from the headboard he tumbled off the bed. By then the door was swinging open, and with a shout he charged toward it. A few sips of water and some sugar sure wasn't enough to even the odds for him, but he was _angry_ for thinking even a moment that one of these assholes might have been on his side, and it fueled him. As soon as Marguerite appeared in the doorway, he punched her full in the face.

Marguerite reeled back with a shout. It took all Clancy's weight to shoulder past her but he made it, her swinging lantern sending streaks of yellow light crackling up and down the unfamiliar hallway. It didn't matter where he went, as long as it was away from her. He stumbled over moldy boxes and scattered picture frames, trying a few doors as he went. With all the windows heavily boarded he couldn't even be sure which floor he was on or where the exterior walls were.

"Get back here, you filthy cocksucker!" Marguerite shrieked, but Clancy didn't even look back as he scrambled into what looked like the house's main hall. The front door was covered in some kind of mechanism but he threw himself at it anyway, prying and clawing at it with his already bruised fingers.

A hand reached past him, and Clancy startled back, readying himself to have to fight again. But next to him was a young woman he hadn't seen yet, and rather than attacking or toying with him like everyone else, she instead jabbed something into the door mechanism and twisted. The locks popped open and the door creaked.

"Go," the woman said, shoving the door open for him. "Just go!"

"Thanks," Clancy gasped out; he should have known better, but it was a reflex. He flung himself through the open door and nearly flew off the front porch into freedom. _Fresh_ night air sent goose bumps rippling along his skin. There was even enough moonlight that he could see where he was going at last, and he turned in a swift circle to get his bearings. There were other buildings nearby that he didn't dare go anywhere near, a parked trailer, and fences that would need scaling if he was going to make it into the trees beyond. Deciding the last option was the safest bet, he braced himself to run.

"Oy Clancy," said Lucas close behind him. "You're wanted on set."

Clancy turned, but before he even spotted Lucas he was knocked the fuck out.

***

"Clancy!"

Clancy didn't have it in him to feel relief anymore. After a dozen rounds of hellish cards, losing two fingers, being electrocuted, and nearly having his skull ripped open by a homemade sawblade, hearing his name declared winner by a bloodthirsty maniac failed to inspire any hope. There was no victory to be achieved. No matter how many times he survived Lucas would never let him go, not until he was literally in pieces. And in the meantime, he could do nothing but watch Lucas torture and humiliate the stranger across from him.

The sawblade hit, slicing chunks of Hoffman's face off his skull. He rocked and gurgled, and Clancy had no idea if he was actually alive or if Lucas was just fucking with him again. Not that mattered—within seconds Hoffman was torn apart, blood and bits of bone oozing out of the burlap sack covering his head. The fabric parted just enough for Clancy to see part of a beard. If nothing else, was grateful not to have ever seen the man's full face.

"Well, I think he's finally tapped out," Lucas said over the wall of televisions. "Looks like we have our grand champion."

"Fuck you," Clancy muttered. He didn't have the strength for rage but he was still defiant, determined that if Lucas was going to kill him, he wouldn't thank him for it. No matter what tortures he was put through, he couldn't bare the thought of gratitude of any kind sneaking out of him again, even if it was to beg for a swift death.

A door opened, and Lucas moved into view. Clancy glared at him, exhausted and dizzy, fully expecting a brand new opponent and challenge to be wheeled into place. Instead, Lucas approached. He even applauded. "Bravo, Clancy," he said, rich with sarcasm. "I knew I was right to put my money on you. You've got 'winner' written all over you."

"Just get on with it," Clancy retorted. "If you have anything left to throw at me."

"Oh, you bet I do." Lucas put his foot to Clancy's chair, giving it a hard kick to twist it away from the table. "That was just act one, you know. We've still got plenty of tape left." He nodded toward the many video cameras filming them from different corners of the room. "You wanna rack up those hits, don't you?"

"With your shitty VHS quality video? Good luck with that."

"It's _texture_ , Clancy," Lucas scolded. "It provides _authenticity_."

_Is he really going to upload this?_ Clancy thought, getting a chill at the thought. He was already well convinced he was going to die, he shouldn't have cared about having his gruesome death broadcasted to the millions of the internet to downvote. Still, it unsettled him enough that he had to look away from the camera. "So what's next?" he asked. "You're gonna break out some stale memes or something?"

Lucas chuckled. "No, I know what sells."

He climbed into Clancy's lap. The chair was already boxy and crowded, and Lucas awkward and gangly, making it painfully difficult. Clancy leaned back as far as he could, not that it was much. He was already stiff from being held captive so long and Lucas's weight on his thighs made them ache. His stomach twisted nauseously with a premonition of what Lucas had in mind.

"Don't," he said. It was all he could get out.

Lucas laughed in his face; his breath was as foul as ever. "What happened to 'thank God for you'?" he taunted.

Clancy tried to reply, but Lucas took fistfuls of his hair and kissed him. His mouth was heavy and grimy and his whiskers stung. At least his tongue wasn't hiding cockroaches, but Clancy gagged all the same. Lucas was already grinding against his lap and it was going to get so much worse.

"Fuck you!" Clancy spat as soon as Lucas gave him use of his mouth back. "You fucking psycho asshole!"

"Now, now, is that any way to address your co-star?" Lucas let go of his hair only to slip his hands up Clancy's shirt. His nails were cracked and broke skin along his stomach. "Come on, Clancy. Let's put on a good show."

He pinched Clancy's nipples and twisted so hard that it felt like they were about to be torn off. Though Clancy didn't want to give him the satisfaction of crying out, he couldn't help himself, shouting and swearing as Lucas gnawed bluntly at his throat. _This is fucked up_ , he thought distantly, fighting to stay focused. He yanked at his hands and feet but the straps holding him down hadn't loosened at all despite his struggles over the last hour. _But at least he's not dismembering me yet. At least it's not the electricity…._

Lucas's hands dipped lower, drawing scars down Clancy's ribs to his waistband. _No_ , Clancy told himself fiercely. _No, no gratitude. No settling_. He resumed his struggling even if he had no hope of bucking Lucas off. _Not for a moment_. "Get off me!" he snarled even as Lucas began unbuttoning his fly. "Get away from me, you sick fuck!"

"No need to be shy." Lucas licked his lips obscenely as he dipped his hand down the front of Clancy's pants. "Ooh, yeah. See? You've got plenty to show off."

He squeezed Clancy's cock through his boxers. It hurt, and Clancy tried again to squirm back, ready to vomit. But after the first brutal grab, Lucas relaxed again. He rubbed Clancy gently as if in apology and leaned in close to his ear. "Been a long while since we had someone like you show up here," he whispered, and Clancy listened closely just to try and keep his mind away from the five long fingers inching beneath the waistband of his underwear. "Ma and Pa don't like seeing young guys around. I guess they're worried Evie might pick one to be Daddy. No one wants to be demoted to Grandad too soon, you know what I mean?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Clancy growled.

"Yeah, well, who cares if you do?" Lucas snorted and gave the inside of his thigh a hard pinch that left him grimacing. "I'm just _saying_ , young bucks like you don't last long around here. I'm lucky I was able to get my hands on you." He went back to teasing Clancy's dick with too-gentle swipes of his fingertips. "Can you blame me for wanting to make the most of it?"

"Fuck yes I can—I blame you for all of this!"

"Well, that ain't fair. You gotta take some responsibility, too." Lucas bit his ear hard enough to leave a dental impression and finally pulled back, climbing off the chair. "You're the one that came down here looking to be internet famous."

Clancy's vision swam, and he had a hard time concetrating as he watched Lucas lower himself to his knees. "It was just a job," he said, even knowing it wouldn't help. "I was filling in."

"Uh-huh." Lucas yanked Clancy's pants down just enough to pull his cock free, and then he leaned back, shoving the chair around to get a better position for the camera. "Sure."

"I was the _cameraman_ ," Clancy insisted. He cringed as his dick flashed up on all the televisions, but there wasn't anywhere else he could safely look except to Lucas, and he didn't want to close his eyes. "I wasn't even supposed to be on camera!"

"Then that would make this quite an upgrade, wouldn't it?" Satisfied with the shot, Lucas shoved Clancy's knees further apart. "You're the lead actor, now," he said. "You'd better play your part."

He took Clancy's cock down his throat, captured on film from half a dozen angles. Clancy groaned in humiliation but there was no fight he could start that he could finish, especially now that he was between Lucas' teeth. He hadn't expected that Lucas could take him so deeply so quickly. Despite all the horror of his situation there was no denying that the psychopath knew what he was doing. Thank God he'd lost too much blood to maintain an erection.

At least, so he'd thought. As Lucas began to suck and fondle him in earnest Clancy felt a stirring of involuntary arousal, and he clenched his jaws painfully shut to keep from making any sound. _That's not me_ , he told himself, finally having to close his eyes as well. He burned with mortification and betrayal as the slick, warm suction tugged a half-hearted hard-on out of him. _I can't help it—it's fucking biology, it's not—_ Tears welled in his eyes as he hissed through his teeth. _This isn't me!_

Lucas pulled back, letting Clancy's dick fall from his mouth with a slick _pop_. "C'mon, man, this is our only take," he said, and he laughed. "Let me hear your lines."

He sucked Clancy into his mouth again, while at the same time reaching for his injured left hand. All it took was for him to pinch Clancy's two severed finger stumps together and he was howling, all his struggles returning full force. It seemed ridiculous that a pinky could cause so much pain that he wished he could just black out. Luckily, Lucas let him go after only a moment, seemingly much more interested in sucking him off. Clancy caught his breath, but as soon as he'd regained enough composure to go quiet, Lucas reached for his hand again, and he got the message.

_Play along_. Clancy moaned, half sobbing as he relented to Lucas' stupid fucking game, however it broke him. _Just this once—just for now. Just enough_. Though there was bile in his mouth and he couldn't stop shaking, he squirmed and murmured as if he were enjoying each stroke of Lucas's broad tongue. "Fuck," he groaned, hating the way his body was even more eager to pretend, growing harder within the fleshy heat of Lucas' throat. " _Fuck!"_

Lucas pulled back again, and Clancy drew in tight, wary of new instructions. The grin Lucas fixed him with was sick and indecipherable. "Say my name," he demanded, flashing teeth. He made a pinching gesture. "Say it."

"Motherfucker," Clancy retorted, and just as he should have expected, Lucas went after his fingers again, mashing the severed flesh against the edges of his exposed bone. He screamed and gave in. "Lucas! Lucas, for fuck's sake!"

Lucas all but giggled and then went back to work, head bobbing, palms kneading into Clancy's thighs. It was aggressive and terrible, dragging him toward unwanted climax. "Lucas," Clancy continued to hiss, delirious with hate. The televisions and the lights and the rusty metal all blurred together, melting into the burns on his wrist and the blood in his teeth. "Fuck you, Lucas…fuck you Lucas…." Like a mantra he kept at it, until his cock was throbbing with traitorous pleasure, eager for release. He tipped his head back and might have even prayed for forgiveness. "Lucas!"

He came, his orgasm short and stuttering, jolting him down to the bone. Lucas gulped him down unflinchingly like a pro. For a few brief, terrifying moments everything was warm and tingling, like a blissful out of body experience. Lucas' thumbs brushing his waist were deceptively tender, and as they separated, Clancy could breathe. But it was only a moment, still laced with dread for what was to come, and Lucas moving away gave him no comfort.

"Not bad, not bad," Lucas said, though whether he was congratulating Clancy or himself was completely unclear. Clancy opened his eyes to try and see what he was up to, but his vision was blurred by tears and he couldn't make him out. "But that was just the first act, after all. Time for a brief intermission."

He reached for the strap holding Clancy's left wrist. Feeling it being removed should have given Clancy cause for excitement or relief, but everything was suddenly so foggy and heavy, and he couldn't bring himself to hope. "What now?" he asked blearily.

"Watch this." Lucas held up a bottle in front of him, but he couldn't come close to reading the label. "You see," he said, plucking Clancy's severed fingers up from the table. "I plan on taking my sweet time with you. You're worth it. But since you haven't quite accepted Evie's gift yet, we can't play _too_ hard without breaking you." He lined up Clancy's fingers to their matching stubs; Clancy winced. "So for now, this is the best we can do."

He poured a sick-smelling liquid over Clancy's hand, just enough to wet the injured fingers. Clancy cried out at the initial sting—it was cold but it burned, and he felt his flesh crawl as if maggots were squirming around inside him. It reminded him too much of Marguerite and he almost passed out at last. Then he felt it—pinpricks of sensation in his fingertips, which he never expected to feel again. Though his vision hadn't improved any, when he flexed his fingers it became clear enough what had happened—his fingers were reattached.

Clancy held his hand up, regarding it with blank shock. "How?"

"A little something I picked up from the lab," Lucas said in sing-song. "Not bad, is it? It's gonna come in _real_ handy."

He leaned forward, pressing both hands to the chair arms so he could turn his mouth right to Clancy's ear. "I'm gonna cut you up some more," he promised in a terrifying whisper. "Piece by piece. And _then_ I'm gonna put you back together. Over and over. Every little bit'a you." He chuckled; it turned Clancy's stomach. "Every _big_ bit'a you, too. You and I are gonna make some beautiful movies together, Clancy."

He laughed, and the sound of it flicked a switch in Clancy he didn't know was still there waiting. Before he could even let himself process what Lucas was promising him, he thrust his newly freed hand up and shoved two fingers into Lucas' eye socket.

He felt the eye pop. It gave him a thrill much more welcome than whatever crude work Lucas had performed on him moments ago, and he wasted no time in hooking his thumb under Lucas' front teeth, gripping his skull like a bowling ball. With all his strength he shoved his captor's head into the chair arm, again and again, until he felt bone give way. Then he hit him some more. Blood and something else oozed over his wrist and it wasn't until Lucas stopped laughing that he let him go.

Lucas hit the ground; Clancy didn't wait long enough to know if he was dead. Immediately he attacked the strap on his other wrist, then his ankles, clawing himself free of his confinement. With his dick safely tucked away he dragged himself upright, but his knees were shaky, and he had to pause leaning against the table to regain his balance. He was weak, but the adrenaline would hold him, he was sure of it. All he had to do was start moving.

On the floor, Lucas started laughing again. Clancy couldn't help but look, and startled at the sight of Lucas grinning up at him, one eye hanging down across his temple, the other wide with delight. "That was pretty good," Lucas sneered.

_Run_ , Clancy thought, but his legs wouldn't obey. He scraped his palm across his face to try and get eyes clear, but that just replaced the tears with blood and sweat. Even so he glanced around in search of an escape. _Get out of here!_ By the time he thought he had the strength to move, Lucas was already on his feet.

"Don't be coy," Lucas jeered, reaching for him. "We've got a whole channel to fill, you and me."

He lunged, and Clancy's body acted without him—he grabbed Lucas by his collar, drawing them momentarily too close. The move surprised Lucas long enough that Clancy was able to use his momentum against him, and with a shout he twisted, throwing Lucas up onto the table, and his face into the buzz saw.

The impact jarred the crudely constructed pinwheel to life—just for a few seconds, just enough to cleave a mighty gash through Lucas' fucking face. He twitched and gurgled and it was _beautiful_ to watch. Clancy almost even laughed as he backed away from the table. Those few steps were the startup he needed, and at last he was able to turn and run. Wherever he was going didn't matter—he had to get as far away from Lucas as possible.

"Clancy," Lucas sang after him, and though his voice was garbled by blood, it came way too soon. "Clancy, don't be like that!"

His laughter chased Clancy out of the den of televisions, out of the maze of chain link and stapled boards. His foul breath clung to Clancy's sinuses even when he burst out of the underground hideaway and back into open Louisiana air. The imprints of his hands pawed at him all the way through the sweating bayou, every tree that brushed his shoulders and arms reigniting the fear that any moment he would hear Lucas at his back again, or maybe even someone, some _thing_ worse. He ran until all his strength was gone.

***

When Clancy awoke, he was on a lumpy cot, and dark figures were crowding around overhead. He could hear static and everything smelled rusty and molded, and he jolted upright. Whatever hell he'd fallen into this time, he was desperate not to lose his momentum again. Hands fell on him and he fought back, until someone pressed an oxygen mask to his face.

"Breathe," said a voice, strong and stern, and he did so without thinking. Gradually the world around him came into focus, and he realized the figures weren't rotting creatures, or even mad Bakers—they were men in combat uniforms talking in code into radios. They had insignias on their uniforms and vehicles, like the army or something. And they all had very big guns.

Clancy looked to the man next to him, and seeing that he looked like he had showered within the last year sealed the deal. He urged the mask back down. "You're the good guys, right?"

The man smiled thinly. "Yeah, you can say that," he said. "Name's Redfield. And you are?"

"…Clancy. Clancy Jarvis." He shuddered. "The Bakers—they kidnapped me. And not just me, there were others—they're out of their minds—"

"We know," Redfield assured, giving Clancy's shoulder a squeeze. "But you don't have to worry about them now. You're safe here." He fixed Clancy with a curious look. "You don't sound like you're from around here. What were you doing this far out in the bayou?"

"I…."

Clancy couldn't answer. It felt so ridiculous now and he was sure that if he tried to get the words out he would just throw up. Fortunately, Redfield saw him struggling and spared him that humiliation. "It's all right," he assured. "Take your time. It doesn't seem like you're infected, but the medics here are going to check you out and then take you to safety. Just follow their instructions, all right? Everything is going to be fine now."

He stood, but before he could get too far, Clancy latched onto his wrist. "Are you going after them?" he asked, eyes wide on the many weapons the man had strapped to his belt and back. "You're…going to kill them?"

"We're going after them," Redfield replied.

He didn't answer the second part, but it was in his face, and Clancy finally was able to feel relief. But not completely. "If you find a room full of video tapes," he said quietly, "do me a favor and destroy them. Will you?"

Redfield frowned, but then he looked down to Clancy's fist shaking around his sleeve. "Okay," he promised, and for some reason Clancy believed he meant it. "I will."

"Thank you." Clancy wilted and could have cried all over again. "Thanks."

He let go, and Redfield moved on. The medics moved in, and Clancy did what they asked. Soon he was in a helicopter being lifted out, and exhaustion got the better of him. Strapped in and safe, he closed his eyes and prayed for sleep without dreams. His nightmare was finally over.

Scene.

Roll credits.


End file.
